#tron ♡

[troninthemiddle]

There has to be a solid form of edible energy called "energy bars" or something so I can imagine programs munching on one in frustration/anger/nervousness.

[betasuppe]

We never got enough Tron & Alan moments for my liking.

I truly hate to think how after leaving the Encom system, Tron never gets to communicate with his creator-user & personal diety ever again... & that makes me sad :((((

[earthtolexie]

was NOT expecting that much tron sound!! I lost it.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, abuse of power, Christianity, blasphemy, medieval times, corrupt priest, torture devices, abuse, punishment, misogyny, public humiliation, execution of non-named characters

♡ FEM reader

A scold's bridle, sometimes called a witch's bridle, a gossip's bridle, a brank's bridle, or simply branks, is an instrument of mirror punishment utilized by the church to publicly humiliate women who speak out of turn.

And you’ve unfortunately been deemed one of them…

You can only regret it now—wish you’d kept your mouth shut—wish you’d just held your tongue and spared yourself the poetic justice. You’d even been warned—that’s the dumb part, the part that makes the regret even more bitter. You’d been told gossipping would only land you in a world of hurt, and you, brave-faced and foolish, had ignored the advice. And now you’re facing the consequences.

Branks, an awful contraption, act as a muzzle in an iron framework, caging the head—quite like a helmet—a heavy helmet. Tight and trapping, it’s enough to make your head ache after a mere minute of wear. But that’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is the bridle-bit—a metal wedge about two inches long and one inch wide in size, of which they slide into your mouth, pressing down on top of your tongue—silencing you entirely. 

But being unable to talk is only the first and least of many discomforts—as it also makes your jaw cramp up, and makes a humiliating amount of drool run wild down your chin—making you look like some or other rabid street mutt that’s ben muzzled for its own good.

The chunky metal collar you’re made to wear doesn’t help negate that imagery, nor does the bell attached to it—drawing in the crowds to the town square where you’ve been put on display, fastened to the tron for public judgment and ridicule.

Oh, and they are full of it today.

Standing there, an army of justice—warped faces and pointed fingers. The kids throw rotten fruit, and the elders fouler words—calling you a Jezebel. 

At least you’re not alone up there but sharing the burden with a handful of other miscreants. One’s bent over in the pillory beside you—another three stand next to him up on the gallows, shaking in their piss-soaked boots, noose loosely around their necks—soon-to-be hangmen. 

Thank God the worst things are thrown their way—at least they’ll be set free of it soon. 

The poor sinners hang there still as the sun starts to set and most of the crowd’s gone home for the day, crows picking at the jelly of their dead eyes while the town’s church officer leads you away by leash.

With your hands and arms bound behind your back, you stumble barefoot and gracelessly through the streets—yanked along all the way from the town square up the hill to the church at the top for your final ruling. 

You’re made to kneel on the cobblestone where the clergyman chains your iron collar to the wall.

You’d always pitied those put in the jougs, though you’d also thought them deserving—never knowing you’d be one of them someday. Now you know first-hand what being deserving means. In a town as small as this, where word travels as quickly as you can speak them, only a few ill thoughts will turn everyone against you.

Everything is in a state of discomfort, but at least you’ve finally escaped the town people’s heckling—now secluded in the peaceful quiet of God’s house to reflect in solitude. 

Or… at least, that’s the standard procedure for such offenses.

“Alright then, little magpie,” the church officer announces while unscrewing the cruel headpiece.

It’s surprising. You’d for sure thought he’d leave it on. It was your understanding that it’s common for the scold to wear the bridle until morning and only then be freed. 

But in any case, be it by pity or mercy, you’re ever grateful nevertheless and won’t complain. 

But then, promptly after freeing your mouth from the bit, the man takes hold of your exhausted jaw and gives you a grave warning in its replacement, “Speak out of turn again, and it will go back on for another day in the tron.”

Goosefleshed and ashen from the spoken threat, you do your best to abide by it and remain quiet like the other church mice.

To which the father hums pleasedly, “Nod your head for me if you understand now, magpie.”

You do, looking up at him obediently—hoping he’d see it as enough and deem your punishment fully served, maybe even remove your bonds and collar as well.

“Good.” 

He smiles knowingly, then drops your head. Scoffing loudly, “But of course… a bitch will always prefer being free from the muzzle… Don’t necessarily make ‘em well-behaved.”

You flinch at the words, eyes wide, looking up into his gaze, feeling small under the weight as he leers down his nose at you worse than that of the crowd earlier. 

But what really makes your stomach curl are his ringed hands and how they move to his robes.

“Let’s see if this newfound virtue of yours is true and not just another one of your brazen tricks, shall we?” he suggests, leisurely undoing the knots to his drapes.

“When I’m done, and if you have managed to hold your tongue, I’ll consider you disciplined enough to return home,” he explains, dropping his attire unceremoniously by his feet before taking hold of your chin again. “If not, the bridle will go back on, and we will continue the lesson in the morning and every day onward until your mouth is as honest as if in the confessional.”

Your eyes flicker between his and peaking forward, barely withstanding whimpering when laying your eyes on it—the thing below his belly nearing your face.

“Remember now, magpie, no making a sound—neither word nor moan. I want complete silence.” 

The grip on your chin tightens, and your eyes dart back up to his. 

“Now open that gossiping trap of yours and accept God’s judgment.” 

His other hand holds it in a gentler caress from your face, giving it a few languid rubs before knocking it against your sealed lips, ordering them to open. 

It shocks you—enough to have you swallow a gasp—almost making an illicit sound that would all but seal your fate with the scold’s bridle for another day of suffering.

“Did you not hear me, girl? I said–” Impatient and roughened by his anger, he lets go of your jaw and deals a sharp blow to your cheek next. “Open your no-good sinning mouth!” 

The hand goes to your hair next, tangling within the tousled locks to give your scalp a hard tug.

Again you’re in danger of making a sound but manage to stifle it by screwing your eyes shut—quickly baring your tongue for the priest and pliantly accepting the salty offering placed upon it soon after as if receiving communion on any other Sunday mass.

“That’s it, magpie—” he says then, softer now in praise. “No more tall tales, no more nagging.” His grip eases up but remains to hold you steady as he slowly and rightfully slides his length down to the very back of your throat. Groaning, “Just be a good girl, now. Close your lips around me and suck—and you’ll soon be forgiven.”

You obey, locking your lips around him, tasting the sweat and tang, withstanding gagging as you force yourself into suckling and swallowing the foreign flavors down. 

“Good. You see?” he sighs out in a groan, pleased while fucking your mouth. 

Tangling both hands in your disheveled hair, he sets a rhythm of pulling you away and reeling you back in close—a tempo more than fair for an amateur throat like yours—only just deep and fast enough to make his weighty balls swing and graze your chin on every thrust. 

“If all a woman does is run ‘er mouth—only using it to bitch and moan—they’ll never learn what it’s truly good for,” he gruffs, sinking deeper and settling there, holding your skull in place from pulling back. “But I’ll show yah—don’t worry.”

Your head soon heats up—bleeding red and thick with it—feeling tight and trapped and in dire desperate need to draw air—or at the very least, make some sort of discomforted sound in lack of it—yet under strict order to remain deadly silent. 

“Good god, girl—I’m going all the way down that tight, hot guzzle—” he drawls, bullying deeper—and deeper. Hissing as he bottoms out, “Just the way God intended!”

His hips stutter, wearing your throat like a holster—lips stretched around his fat shaft, kissing his pubes with your nose buried in his well-fed belly.

With eyes rolling back beneath tightly shut lids, seeing spots of light in the enclosing void, you can’t help but flinch when hit with the glob of spit that falls and splatters between your brows. But at least the laughter that echoes throughout the church hall drowns out the sound of your heaving for air once he finally pulls out and frees your throat.

Maintaining a fist in your hair, he keeps you close—your temple to his hip, nose-kissing his strung shaft—struggling to catch your breath while his chuckles die down into humored hums.

“I’ve never had a throat that deep before,” he scoffs with a cruel smile—yanking your hair once again, pulling it back to make you face up. “One might call it witchcraft.” 

Another hard slap is dealt in the same spot as earlier. 

“Are you a witch maybe, magpie?” 

And a third smack. 

“Do I haf’to tie you to the stake next—have ourselves a roast?

Feeling your cheek sting white-hot, you shake your head—fighting to keep your whimpers at bay as silent tears dampen your cheeks—puffing up and rushing with blood post-strike, dulling to a numb yet lingering ache.

He doesn’t show mercy. Instead, it seems the pitiful display only makes him more rowdy—shoving you down to the cold cobblestone with an evil gleam in his eyes.

“Then let’s see you praise the Father,” he barks. “Bow and kiss his holy floor. I’ll judge whether you're a witch or not.”

You’re leash only barely gives you enough leeway to lower yourself. Hands remaining bound up tight behind your back, balled up and shaking in their knots as you bend over until your lips brush the dusty church stone.

“No, not a witch… but—” he hums, though not entirely convinced yet. “A true Christian would savor the taste of God's house.”

Your brows cinch, but you still do as suggested—producing your tongue and dragging it across the filthy tile—collecting dry silt and larger grains of sand—leaving behind a darkened wet trail on the otherwise ashen rock.

“That’s it, magpie,” the clergyman croons with a sneer. “Put that gossipping little tongue of yours to better use.”

You obey, eyes closed, continuing to lick the floor like a dog—fearing worse things would come if you didn’t. Wanting it all to be over and figuring if you just listen, it’ll be done quicker and as pain-free as you could hope.

“But do you deserve it?” he asks then, after a pause of watching you with his cock in hand, tugging it with raspy breaths getting rustier—continuing with a gritty tone, “An unwed woman can only serve the lord if she’s pure.”

His other hand returns to your hair for a third time, pulling you up by the tresses in a stinging grip.

“Are you pure, magpie?”

Goosefleshed by his darkened tone, you cower under his pointed glare. Keenly nodding your head as much as his hand allows.

Still, he doesn’t seem convinced. Huffing, “We’ll see.” 

He drops you again. Now, with a new order, “Turn and bow with your tongue back on the floor.”

You do as he says, though shakily. Gut folding and churning within—throat tight, even under the metal collar, snaring—making your head pound with alarm as you shift on your knees until you’re facing the wall with your back to him, lowering your head down until your swollen cheek neatly squish against the cool stone—tongue splayed out on the earthy rock once again—with your rear raised for the priest’s inspection.

Your nails sink into your palms in the same painful crescents as before while the clergyman lifts your greyed and tattered frock like he’s unveiling a blushing bride—and, similarly to the groom, throws the skirt atop your sloped back, bunched up with the rest of your dirtied dress—leaving your legs and thighs and ass bare to his preying eyes.

He rumbles heavily, pleased by the sight of your pretty little virgin cunt—quivering in the crude and callous open air.

Crouched behind you in perfect level with it, you can all but feel his eager leer rake through you before his finger does—slicing through your pussy-lips and quickly disappearing inside your formerly untouched hole.

You flinch, squirming at the unfamiliar feeling—breaths damp against the ground as you await the verdict.

“It’s tight,” he grumbles, assessing you with a knuckle-deep digit, before scoffing, “But surely… no true virgin is this wet.”

Your eyes widen at the accusation, and he slips his finger out again and stands up with a sigh, “I can’t make sure with a finger alone.”

Then suddenly, he grabs onto of your hanches and lifts your hips higher until your thighs straighten up—and promptly lays his still-hard and hot-blooded member to rest between the cheeks. With his knees bent, a toppling tower over you, he slides through the crevice, rubbing upon your scrunched asshole as he does.

You stir for the first time, but his hold tightens in turn.

“Keep that tongue out, magpie. And don’t you dare make a single sound, y’hear? Or else the branks go back on.”

You fall still—scared in place—eyes screwed shut as his cock falls from the peak of your ass down to your glistened entrance, prodding the small opening with the tip, trying to force it inside, but kept at bay until the narrow ring of muscle finally gave and allowed him to tear through.

“Wheew—undoubtedly a virgin!” he whistles with his head gaining purchase. Groaning at the close fit. “Taut and tight and sensitive—and just perfect for taking seed.”

Meanwhile, you suck in a gasp—tongue still pinned to the floor—only barely managing to suppress the cry that had wanted to follow. 

Choking it down, you nurse yourself through it with a string of deep breaths instead—even as he starts prying further inside—letting your cunt hold the head as he gives it shallow digs, working you open to take his full length.

“That’s it—good magpie,” he moans, pulling you back on his cock by your hips, treading you on like a sleeve. “Take it deep.”

He starts thrusting, and your breath weakens into thin stutters—tongue hanging limply from your mouth all on its own. Eyes glazed, looking toward nothing—rocked steadily as the corrupt priest pounds you like a cheap whore—sore cheek scraping against the stone floor. 

And still, you’re silent—as if having taken a vow.

The only sounds echoing throughout the church are the clergyman’s grunts and the steady fwop fwop fwop of his balls clapping your sopping cunt—almost reminiscent of the church bell’s clangoring.

��Almost there now, magpie,” he chimes from above. “Milk my cock and take my seed in your womb, and you’re forgiven.”

It almost sounds too good to be true. Even as everything aches and you’ve become certain you might just remain mute forever onward, the thought of freedom is enough to bring new hopeful tears to your pitiful eyes. So, as the warmth of his release soils your inside, it’s also joined by overwhelming relief.

A moment or more passes. You don’t take your tongue off the floor, and he remains above you, pumping his load into your deep, dumping it all at depth as if burying some dirty secret. 

At some point, he pulls out—cock now sluggish and spent. You feel its spillage matte on the inside of your thighs—also hidden as he drapes your skirt back in place.

Unbothered with his own clothes, he stands there before your bowed body—now with an accent of full-bellied satisfaction as he pronounces you free of sin in bad Latin—crossing his chest and kissing his knuckle before looking up to the ceiling at the God you’d grown sure he didn’t even believe in.

“Rejoice, magpie,” he mocks while leaning over you to untie your hands. “You’re now free to go.”

But as you lift your head, he still holds out on removing your collar. 

Holding your chin instead, he looks down at you like before, saying, “But it would do you good to remember…” His free hand taps your cheek, softer now but hard enough to make you cringe. “You run that bitch mouth again, and in my church on your knees is where you’ll end up. Understand?”

And just like before, you nod your head for him—still as silent as a church mouse eager to escape the beast’s ugly jaws.

He seems pleased with that and gives you a crooked smile, purring, “Good.” 

He then fishes the keys to your collar from his heaped robes and, at long last, unlocks it from your throat.

And by God, it feels like being set free from hell.

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[betasuppe]

What Legacy was afraid to give us!!

Rinzler mightve been fucked up beyond repair but he would've had his wife!!! Yori would've steered him safely & give Clu the beat down of the century!!!!!! I just

I hurt all the time thinking how Mr I-adore-my-wife-beyond-mere-mortal-comprehension ended up alone & in such fucked up shape & how much could've been halted or otherwise just FIXED by Yori being there I s2g 😭💕😭💕😭💕

rinzyor doodles

[tmntfixationxreader]

"Hello author! I've read some of your other works and I thought they were great, so I have a request for you.

Would you be willing to write a Rise Raph x reader where they're having a sleepover? Raph is nervous about wearing his retainer around them but doesn't realize that the reader also has a retainer until they put theirs on, fluff ensues.❤️🙏🙏🙏"

Sure thing! Thanks for the request :)

*****************************************************************

♡Self conscious sleepover♡

~During a sleepover, Raph gets worried about wearing his retainer~

Warnings: None, just fluff :)

Word count: 933

*****************************************************************

You had just had an amazing, long night with the gang.

Raph had invited you over for a sleepover, so you could hang out with him and his brothers, watch movies, play games, and chill.

It was getting late now though, even for them. Mikey was already passed out on the couch you all had been watching movies on. Leo was sitting in front of the couch watching Jupiter Jim intently, and Donnie was typing something on his wrist watch, as he was ‘definitely too busy to watch the Atomic Lass special’.

Raph yawned once, displaying his fang and teeth before stretching his back as he sat forward. He noticed how sleepy you were looking, and decided it was probably time for the two of you to head to bed.

“Y/n, you ready to head to Raphs’ room?” Raph asked, looking sleepy himself.

You yawned as well and nodded. “Yeah, probably…”

Raph nodded, definitely ready for bed; But he was the older brother, and had to make sure his younger siblings would go to bed too.

“Leo, last movie. Seriously, you won’t get any sleep. Same for you too Donnie, and no lab work past midnight.”

“Yes yes dear brother, I know the rules,” Donnie said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand before typing more stuff onto his wrist watch.

“Don’t worry Hermanos, I’ll make sure Don Tron goes to bed…. Aaaand I won’t stay up past midnight either…” Leo said, giving Raph a smile before turning his attention fully back to the screen.

Raph sighed, content with their answer. “You two will sleep… Trust me, I’ll know if you didn’t.” He tucked Mikey in with a blanket before getting up from the couch.

“Ready Y/n?”

You nodded happily and sleepily, telling the twins goodnight before getting up from the couch yourself.

Raph’s bedroom was nice. It was large, decently organized, and decorated with a few scattered posters. You noticed the small (some larger) scratch marks on the walls from his spikes. He had a large bed, big enough for the two of you to sleep on. Actually, you guessed that it was a king sized bed and a twin mattress pushed together to make one large bed.

“I like your room,” You smiled, setting your bag down. You had already gotten changed into your pj's, brushed your teeth and hair, ready for bed. One last thing was needed, though, to complete your routine. You squatted down next to your bag, digging through its contents to find your retainer.

“Thanks,” Raph smiled, and sat down on his bed, having already finished his nightly routine… But, he needed his retainer, too. It was sitting on his mostly bare nightstand, next to a small lamp. He didn’t keep much on it, more than once he had knocked the contents off during the night.

He was nervous to get it out, looking over at it more than once as the two of you talked.

“It kind of reminds me of my own room… I especially like your squishmallows collection,” You smiled at him over your shoulder, still digging around in your bed.

Raph smiled a toothy smile. “Thanks! I like to collect them… Kind of hard to do that without spending a lot of money, though… Most of them are ones my brothers have given me over the years”

You nodded. “Cool! Seems like your brothers knew just what to get you then.”

Raph looked over at the small box on his nightstand. He was nervous about wearing it in front of you. He had only ever worn it in front of his brothers, and he was worried of what you would think of it… Especially because it was shaped around his fang and looked a little strange.

Finally your fingers found the container your retainer was kept in.

You pulled it out of your bag, opening the small plastic container with a click

Raph blinked. “You… Wear a retainer?” He asked as you put it on, fitting it inside your mouth.

After a short moment of muscle memory, you closed the container and put it back in your bag with a nod and a smile. “Yep, I wear a retainer.”

You glanced at Raph to see his reaction, and was pleasantly surprised when Raph’s face lit up into a smile.

“Really? I wear one too!” He said, grabbing his container from his nightstand. “Raph was a little nervous about wearing it in front of you…”

You raised your eyebrows. “Nervous? Why?” You smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Raph nodded, feeling a little better. “I don’t know… I was just self conscious.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be! I would never make fun of you for it or anything, even if I didn’t wear one myself.”

Raph smiles, and you zip up your bag. He opened the small plastic container, putting the plastic retainer over his teeth.

You smile at him, and he smiles back, clearly relieved.

“Thanks Y/n,” He smiled, and scooted so you could take half of the bed. You sat down next to him with a smile, patting his shoulder.

“No problem… Seriously, don’t stress about it…. No one should ever make fun of you for it,” You say, laying down next to him on your half of the bed, pulling the blankets up over yourself. It was getting really late, and you could immediately tell how tired you were.

Raph smiled and nodded, pulling the gigantic blanket over half of himself too.

“Good to know…Thanks,” He said, sleepiness settling into his eyes and muscles.

“Anytime Raphie…”

*****************************************************************

Hope you like it! I'm really busy working on some personal and long requests, so I took a break to do some shorter ones :)

Bye bye butterflies!

[lieslab]

Tetris

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Han X gn reader

Summary: A simple trip to the arcade leads to disaster after disaster and a brief doubt that your boyfriend truly loves you.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Trigger warning: Anxiety (specifically social anxiety) and self-doubt.

A/N: Anonymous requester, I've done it. This was super fun to write (I mean up until the self-doubt and anxiety part where I proceeded to get a little sad) Never fear because I managed to make the end fluffy just like you requested!!

I'm sorry it's probably been posted way later than you expected. I have a job and I've been looking at college options and that's the reason why all my requests are a little slower. It's never too late to make your dreams come true. Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

_ _ _

It was a blast from the past, walking into the arcade that your boyfriend found one day. It was like stepping back into the 80’s. Fun colorful and bright prints littered the black floor. Neon strands hung above your heads in waves. The lights had been dimmed to make everything pop. 

“Do you like it?” Han turned to you and beamed. 

“This place is amazing. How did you find it?” Your eyes were wide as you glanced around. The white t-shirt you were wearing seemed to glow beneath the neon funk. It was trippy and it was exhilarating. Excitement thrummed through your veins. 

“I don’t know. I went on a walk one day and accidentally entered. I wanted to go to the coffee shop next door and got lost in my thoughts. I ended up here in the process.” 

Off in the distance, you could hear the hums of bowling pins being set back up. Squeaky motors had been used year after year after year, gathering up rust and remaining ungreased. The old hinges seemed to be on their last limbs, but they still managed to hold up. 

Cheers filled the air as a family, split in half for the bowling game, managed to gather a strike. Kids laughed and rushed in front of you. In another section, the greasy smell of fried food wafted over to you. You practically drooled at the sudden overpowering scent of pizza. The acidic tomatoes and the greasy cheese mingling with pepperoni. 

Arcade game after arcade game sat along a side wall. Multiple people’s silhouettes were lit up from the static screens. You managed to catch a few glimpses of familiar games. Pac-man, Frogger, Donkey Kong, and Tron. 

More modern games had been speckled throughout the large area. Skeeball had been placed across from the bowling lanes. Four basketball hoop games and a few football throwing games sat beside it. Larger machines that held more unfamiliar games were speckled throughout. 

Han laced his fingers through yours and led you towards the counter to get coins to play. It was one of his favorite parts of the place. All the games took old golden coins instead of electronic swipeable play passes. 

When he handed you a cup full of coins, he smiled. “So where should we start first?” 

You shrugged, still looking around with wide eyes. “There’s so much to do. We could do anything and-” 

“Then it’s a good thing that we have the whole afternoon to play, isn’t it?” 

His uptick in energy made you smile. The two of you slipped into the full arcade and began to play. You managed to last for nearly two hours before exhaustion set in. Han still seemed to have so much energy, but you felt drained. 

More people were flooding into the building. Han was distracting himself from this by focusing on the games, but you couldn’t. You were becoming more and more aware of how much harder it was to move through the area. 

Most people were polite, but some were not. A few glares were sent your way by a group of teenagers at one point. Your stomach churned with anxiety as you mumbled a quiet apology for stepping in front of them and scurried away. 

Han hadn’t realized it because he was too busy gushing about Pac-Man and how he wanted to get on the leaderboard. You were happy that he was happy, but you were starting to feel constricted. The crowd seemed to push against your lungs and make it harder to breathe. 

You made your way over to the game and Han began to play. After about four rounds, you announced that you were going to get a drink. Too involved in the game, he mumbled a weak response and you disappeared. 

In the cafe area, you felt a lot better. After ordering your drink, you sat down at a small table and sucked in a deep breath. During some days, your social anxiety was worse than other days. Just in general, you could have bad anxiety days. 

It ruled your life, no matter how much you tried to work on it. You tried to journal and you had tried therapy, but nothing seemed to stamp out that fluttery and panicky what-if feeling. It was some piece of your brain that you didn’t quite know how to get rid of. 

For a while, you were content with leisurely sipping your drink and observing the people in the bowling lanes. Parents in one lane were with their two kids. The kids couldn’t have been much older than ten. The mother and daughter had teamed up against the father and son. 

“Mommy and I are going to beat you!” The little girl smirked. Two black pigtails had been tied at the sides of her neck. She was dressed in a lavender dress that seemed to radiate beneath the white lights above her. 

“Nuh-uh! Nuh-uh!” The boy stuck out his tongue. His hair was the same deep shade of onyx. Both of their facial features were a perfect blend of their parents. 

“This isn’t fair!” Another voice cried off in the distance. Your eyes adjusted to find two younger girls. One stood with her hand on her hips and the other stomped her foot. “It’s rigged!” 

“It’s not rigged, it’s your fault that you don’t know how to bowl. I tried to tell you, but you’ve refused to listen to me. This is your own fault!” 

You smiled at the sight. Everything seemed to be against you when you were a kid. It was so easy to get frustrated and upset at the age when you didn’t understand how the world quite worked. 

“Feel it? The weight of the ball in your hand? Just get used to it and hold on tight. Don’t want to drop the ball on my foot, do we?” 

Your head snapped to the opposite side when you heard a man’s voice. A guy was standing behind a girl. Adorned in a gray hoodie, he had an arm looped around her waist. She laughed with his right hand tucked over hers. 

“I’m being serious, get used to this and this motion.” He slowly began to rock her arm back and forth. It was the same motion that you used to bowl and release the ball. “Once you get used to this, you focus on aiming.” 

“And how do I do that?” The girl asked. 

“Keep your eyes on the prize, sweetheart. Keep your gaze locked and loaded in the middle of the pins. Focus on that middle point. Breathe in and breathe out and then release the ball, got it?” 

You watched the girl do what he said and she released the ball. He kept his chin over her shoulder while the two watched the ball slip down the lane. Over and over the bright orange ball rolled head over heels until- 

Crash!

The girl beamed as all the pins fell over. “I did it! I did it! I did it! I got my first strike!” 

“Congratulations, baby.” 

You looked away as the girl spun around and kissed the guy. It felt like such an intimate moment and you didn’t want to intrude. Your mind began to drift back to Han. You shifted in your chair to find him still hooked up in front of the Pac-Man game. 

A sigh slipped out through your nose. You didn’t mean for your thoughts to start wondering, but they began to creep in. Did he love you as much as you loved him? When was the last time the two of you had such an intimate moment outside of the house? Was he embarrassed of you? 

He rarely held your hand and never even attempted to kiss your cheek in public. Sure, you both walked side-by-side, but that wasn’t the same thing. The more you thought about it, the more hurt you felt. You were squeezing the juice out of your own heart. 

The lump began to form in your throat and you quickly stood up. In the process of attempting to grab your drink, you knocked over the cup. It hit the ground and spilt all over the floor. Your tears blurred your eyes and you cursed beneath your breath. 

Why were you like this? Why were you such a klutz? You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to gather the courage to go ask for napkins. Before you could stop them, someone headed towards you. 

The kid was too distracted by the handfuls of tickets in his arms. Quite literally, he was skipping off to the front to gather prizes when the disaster worsened. A loud gasp left his mouth as he slipped in the sugary soda. The back of his shirt seeped it up as he fell. 

The moment you heard the ruckus, your eyes opened in shock. A loud wail came from his mouth and alerted everyone near your area. All eyes were on the two of you and your heart quickened. 

You dropped to your knees instantly to try to console the poor boy. You reached out a hand and gently pulled him up. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A woman’s shrill voice filled your ears. You glanced over to find a woman standing with her fists on her hips. “Get your hands off my son!” 

“I-I’m sorry, it wasn’t like that, he fell and I-” 

“That doesn’t give you the right to touch him!” She snapped as she rushed towards him. “Come here, come on, let’s get you to the bathroom to try and clean you up.” She shot you a final glare before you were left alone. Eyes from earlier still lingered. 

You suddenly thought you might burst into your own set of tears. Before you could approach the counter to ask for napkins, a worker appeared with a mop. He huffed as he dunked the murky tendrils in a bucket of sud filled water. 

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Not like you’re the first one to make a mess, butterfingers. You certainly won’t be the last one either. Just get out of here and try not to make another mess, will you?” 

You mumbled another apology and rushed away from the mess with your empty cup. You tossed the remainders of the sticky mess into a trash can and disappeared back into the crowd. You were about ready to sob and to make matters worse, you left your coins somewhere and you didn’t know where. 

You couldn’t play anything and Han still had your wallet. You had given it to him earlier because your pockets were small in the pants you chose to wear. If you bothered him, you’d ruin his Pac-Man game and you didn’t want to worry him. 

More than anything, you just wanted to go home. You wanted to change and go back into comfy clothes and relax. You had reached your limit minutes ago and things were only getting worse. 

So you circled the arcade again and then again and again. You didn’t linger in one spot for too long. You kept your arms wrapped around yourself and you kept your body tucked into itself. The last thing you wanted to do was cause another issue. 

You circled over and over until you caught a glimpse of Tetris. The game was on and ready to start, but nobody was around it. It seemed like someone decided to play it and then decided to abandon the game before it could begin. 

You couldn’t help it, after nobody appeared for nearly a minute, you slowly walked over. Your gaze casted around, but everyone was still in their own little worlds. After pressing start, you began to play the game. 

In the beginning, you were good at it. Pressing the controls and adjusting the multi-colored awkward shapes to fit together. You were making good progress until you messed up on a T-shaped block. The moment that happened, your anxiety began to brew. You began to worry about other blocks before they were down. 

Tetris was a lot like anxiety. Everything seemed to do well until something slipped up. One small slip-up was enough to make you panic about the future. Instead of attempting to focus on what was in front of you, your brain was multiple steps ahead of itself. 

When you realized this, you couldn’t stop. You tried to focus on the block in front of your eyes, but you were constantly thinking about the block that would come next. Where would you place it? Would it fit between those two shapes? What if it was too big and caused the blocks to stack higher? You weren’t supposed to let them stack too high. 

You didn’t realize you were crying. The screen illuminated the glossy tears silently trickling down your cheeks. You didn’t notice until warmth slipped onto your hand. It was then that you realized you were crying and it made you stress out more. 

Before you could try to fix it, the game ended and a huge game over screen sat in front of your eyes. There was an option to play again, but you didn’t have more coins. You sniffled and sucked in a deep breath. 

“Baby, are you okay?” Han’s voice hit your ears. 

You spun around to come face-to-face with him frowning. You quickly used the back of your hands to wipe away the tears. You sniffled again and nodded. 

“What happened?” 

“Just some anxiety and stuff.” 

“What kind of anxiety?” 

You didn’t mean to blurt it out, but it came out anyway. “Do you love me like I love you?” 

“Huh?” 

“I mean, y-you don’t really interact with me when we’re in public. You don’t hold my hand or kiss me. I mean, you did earlier, but that was only once and I just…” You trailed off. “Am I not good enough for you?” 

He gently reached out and took your hand again. You let him lead you through the crowded maze of people and pull you alongside a further away wall. “What’s got you so worked up? You know I love you a lot. I don’t touch you a lot in public because I don’t want to make you nervous.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do I not show you enough?” He frowned. 

You shook your head, “I-I just…I don’t know.” 

“You’re ready to go home, aren’t you?” 

You meekly nodded and pawed at your eyes again. Your social battery was blaring with an alarm. You needed to go home and recharge before you went out again. You needed personal space to feel like you could breathe again. 

“I have one more coin and then we can go home, okay? I was actually saving it for you. I don’t think you’ve gone to the claw machine yet, have you?” You shook your head. He grinned, “let's go!” 

You let him lead you over to the claw machine. He handed you the coin with a smile. “I’ll let you do the honors because you’re good at these.” 

“I only have one try.” 

“Yeah, but I believe in you. Even if you don’t get anything, I still have all of our tickets. We have to go redeem our prizes.” 

You slowly slipped the golden coin in the slot. There was a whole section of the games, but Han had pulled you to one lit up neon pink. Inside, a wide selection of plushies sat staring at you. As the game started up, you debated on what to try and aim for. 

After a brief consideration, you finally grabbed a hold of the black controller and began to shift the claw. You put all your focus into the game and tried to block out the surrounding noise and Han. You needed perfect attention while doing this. 

The crane swung for a bit and then it stopped. Just for a brief second, you tilted the control to the left. Holding your breath, you pushed the red button. A soft whirl filled the air and you and Han watched the crane begin to outstretch and fall down. 

The tiny arms opened as it sank further and further into the pit of plushies. Silently, you begged it to grab the one you were aiming for. You waited and waited and waited until- 

“Holy shit,” Han whispered. 

The claw had grabbed onto the plush. You kept holding your breath because you had seen this multiple times. It was only when it dropped into the prize shute that you let your breath out. 

“You did it!” Han cheered. 

You smiled, ducked down, and retrieved the prize. When you held it up in the light, Han’s face lit up. “Oh, it’s beautiful. What are you going to name them?” 

“I’m not.” 

His eyebrows furrowed together, “you’re not?” 

“It’s up to you.” You reached out and held the boba tea plushie out towards Han. A small brown straw poked out the top of it. Plush velvet black spheres created the illusion of boba balls. A faint blush sat on its cheeks and there were sparkles in his eyes. 

“You’re giving him to me?” 

“He kinda looks like you. Plus, he’s very cute. I know you’ll treat him kindly and take good care of him.” 

Han’s eyes softened as he took the plushie from you. There was blush powdered across his own cheeks. “Thank you. You already know that I’ll cherish him forever. I’ll take him home and place him next to Han Quokka.” 

At that moment, he simply didn’t care that the two of you were in public. He placed the plush beneath his arm, gently cupped your face, and pressed his soft lips to yours. When he pulled away, you were left dizzy and breathless. He laughed at the gobsmacked look on your face. You were left floating on cloud nine with your anxiety far away from your immediate thoughts. 

He slipped your hand into yours. It was getting late and the arcade had emptied out a little. It was starting to feel like you could breathe again. 

“Come on!” You grinned, “let’s go get the rest of our prizes!” 

When you began to run through the crowd, he followed right behind you. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Masterlist

Taglist, and inbox rules

[jijidraws]

✶ P△TRONS! ✶

Thank you for your patience while I catch up on sticker club! It’s given me peace of mind while I heal up. ;0; October’s delayed rewards have hit the mail. ♡ They should arrive to y’all late this week/early next! xx

(If you’re a member who missed out on this set or the global tier small prints: these are up in the sticker archive! Just check the pinned post on p△treon for this month's password.)

[evecolourshock]

THIS IS SO COOL AAAAAAA!!!!!!

The creative team dropped the new logo for Tron Asterisk! It looks fantastic!

[troninthemiddle]

I love that programs find hobbies/jobs outside of what their creators designated for them.

Tron, a security program but also in love with sports and games

Shaddox, an architect but he's a bartender as well

Paige, a medic but she wanted to be a musician and she's currently in the army

Beck, a mechanic but he goes beyond it and fights too

Programs aren't beholden to their programming. They can and will go beyond that. As a hobby or as a job or as an ambition. They have free will.

[lucky-dyse]

Rewatching Tron (1982) in honour of Cindy Morgan ♡

[betasuppe]

Part of my new phone lock screen for myself, ft a very lovestruck Flint & his guys squishing him in a hug♡♡♡

[rinzler-smoocher]

There was no need to read between the lines.

Flint and Tron had long ago forgone hiding anything from one another, so there was no subtext needed here. Flint had all too easily read through Tron's mismatched gaze and understood with perfect clarity the pain his reappearance in the Grid brought with all his love and misery, tied into one.

"You need to go back," Tron said again, his voice cracking, now unable to stop his guard from crumbling down when he was wrapped back in Flint's warm embrace. I love you, I've missed you, please, I need you. "This isn't the old Grid. It isn't home anymore. This place has become a living hell - your world is safer than anything I could ever provide for you."

Flint squeezed onto the program, having missed the way how Tron's strong form could fit so perfectly against his own body and that delightful, electric feeling that zinged through his veins whenever Tron and he were close to one another. The bond between user and program - he assumed it had to have been - was welcoming and loving more than anything he had ever known.

Without a doubt, here and now, Flint was home.

"Screw this awful place! It's you. You're my home, Tron. I can't and I won't leave you," Flint stated, his voice sure and serious as he allowed Tron to melt in his embrace. "I'm here to stay. We'll figure this out."

Tron sighed, his voice trembling as Flint's hand gently caressed around the injury of his damaged cheek, carefully keeping away from the jagged pixels of flesh left hanging on to dear life around the scar's edge. Flint's eyes watered traitorously as he realized just how badly his other half was hurting. Tron could take the very worst hits that would flatten a lesser program, and he could brush them off with ease. So, for Tron to be in such pain, it was only too clear how terribly he was suffering in his current condition.

"Flint, I'm not... I'm not worth saving anymore," Tron relented. His voice was harsh as he allowed himself to stop being the mythical hero everyone needed him to be for once. "Forget me and get out while you still can. There are so many innocent programs still out there that need help, and I'll be derezzed to pieces protecting them if that's what it takes."

"Tron, no, I would never leave you like this." Flint fought back from allowing himself to crumble inside, especially when he needed to be stronger than ever for his beloved other half. "Don't even worry about me. You've looked out for me and protected me through so much. It's high time I get to return the favor and take care of you, and we help the Grid and all these innocent programs together. And, God help me, if I ever cross paths with Clu or Dyson, they'll live to regret everything they've done to you."

Tron shifted, pulling himself upright and out of Flint's hold, smiling sadly as he regarded his sweet user.

"I've missed your fire so much. There's no stopping you, even if I could try, huh?"

"You know it," Flint chuckled, lovingly brushing the stray hair out of Tron's face, away from obscuring his unseeing eye. "Anyway, Clu knows I'm here. There's no hiding it. He'll be coming after me eventually. In the meantime, I'm going to help you - there's no arguing against me there."

Tron pulled Flint into another tight, needy hug. The user tucked his face into the crook of his program's neck, smiling uncontrollably as his eyes blurred over in happy tears. Tron could barely hold back a smile, burrying his nose into Flint's bright hair. He sighed before breathing in that delectable clean scent he was certain he'd never experience again.

...

Beck did his best to not listen and to not let his eyes stray to his mentor and the user, but he couldn't help when he returned from his training sim and walked in the room to see Tron looking more fragile than ever, with the user pressed to his side and guiding the broken hero back to his healing chamber.

Beck ran over to help at once and tucked himself under Tron's opposite side, taking some of his weight off of Flint's shoulders.

"Thank you," Tron winced, still clearly having a hard time reverting to the cold, hard exterior Beck had become so familiar with. "I don't know what I'd do without this foolish beta helping me all this time."

Flint smiled over to Beck from the other side of Tron's chest. "He's a great kid, I can already see that."

Beck smirked. Though appearances could be deceiving, the user looked to be about his own age. But, right now, seeing how tightly knit the bond between the program and his user was, it made Beck feel a bit like a child staring up at his parents.

The two carefully hoisted Tron into his chamber, but before he could be pulled under the warm light, the hero program scrambled to take ahold of Flint's hand.

"Flint, wait!" He groaned with effort, pulling himself out of the glinting curtain of light that would stop his own programming from tearing at the seams.

The user drew closer to Tron, gently resting his own hand on top of Tron's, fully at attention for his program. "Yeah?"

"Please," Tron huffed out a weak laugh. "As much as it hurts me to see you here, please don't leave me. Not just yet. There's so much I still need to tell you."

Beck watched on, his eyes wide in awe as Flint lifted Tron's hand and pressed a tender kiss to the top of his mentor's knuckles. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll see you when you're back on your feet and we'll talk then."

"Do you promise?" Tron smiled, wincing in sore, terrible pain as he drew Flint's hand up to his face so he could return the favor and lay a gentle kiss on the crest of Flint's knuckles, too.

"I promise," Flint responded at once. He pulled Tron into one last tight hug. Beck turned away, unsure if it was right for him to watch this exchange between user and program.

Before he knew it, Tron was already deep at rest in the chamber again, his code temporarily halted in progress from being shredded to pieces. Flint stood just outside of it, staring in at his hero in heartbroken misery.

"Are you ok?" Beck asked, slowly approaching the user from the side.

"I will be." Flint rubbed at his eyes before stepping away and walking to stare out of the massive windows surrounding the room. "We all will be," he said, this time with far more conviction in his words now that he was away from Tron and seeing the terrible shape he was in.

"And you're," Beck swallowed nervously, trying to find the best way to broach the topic at hand. "You're really staying here? By choice?"

"I am. Besides, I -," Flint said, his tone lower than usual, as he was unsure of how much Tron would be able to hear even while deep at sleep in his healing chamber. "I don't think I can go back to my world, even if I wanted to."

"Why not?" Beck asked, watching curiously on while Flint looked back and forth between his program and the bright-eyed beta.

"Because," Flint whispered conspiratorially, leaning in closely to Beck. "I came in through a backdoor I more or less forced open... I didn't plan to return to my awful world and, even if I wanted to, I didn't code it so that I'll be able to activate the doorway to re-open from this side."

Beck blinked back in surprise.

Had this user been so crazy that he intentionally returned here to the Grid with no plans on ever going back to his own world? Beck glanced over to where Tron was nearly wilted over in his frozen state within the chamber. How close could a user and program be that Flint would be willing to do this to himself for Tron?

"You know he isn't going to like that," Beck murmered, rubbing his hand along the back of his head. "Tron's going to be -"

"Pissed? Yeah, that'd be the understatement of the year." Flint huffed out a brusque laugh. "But, it was my choice to do this and come here. There's no going back now. I'm here to stay."

"Wow," Beck let out a breath in surprise. "Leaving your world behind to be here? That's... that's a pretty huge sacrifice to make. Why would you do that to yourself?"

Flint raised an eyebrow at the beta, smirking as he looked down at Beck's chest, eyeing the T icon he wore on his Renegade suit. "Why I would do something so big, like forget myself and put myself aside to help someone else, like the greater good? I wonder if you'd understand."

Beck flushed, his cheeks turning blue as he looked down and realized what Flint had meant. With him having taken up the mantle of the Renegade, there was no debate here. "Right, I guess I really can't argue with that."

"I'm going to help you and we're going to help Tron, but you can't tell him that I'm here to stay." Flint responded, extending his open hand Beck's way. "It's gotta be our secret, ok?"

Flint looked much younger than what Beck had ever assumed Tron's user might appear, but still... Beck couldn't help but appreciate how intense he seemed behind those big brown eyes. He wasn't all talk - just getting to this point at Tron's base and surviving Clu's wrath after Flint stumbled directly into a major security point proved that - and he was here to stay. He might've been a brand new ally on Beck's side, but if Tron trusted him this much, Beck was certain he could trust and believe in the user, too.

Beck nodded, smiling determinedly as he took Flint's hand in his own, shaking it sharply. "You've got it - I'm on your side."

Ok, thinking now abouttttt if somehow Flint broke back into the Grid and interacted with Uprising Tron & like. How that would even go down...

Uprising!Tron is so absolutely intense & like he has attempted to turn off his emotions & he acts cold and harsh since the terrible reality of his existence in Clu's Grid is his life.

Adding in Flint among all of that... like, how would that even go??

Tron would likely be upset and distraught for Flint being added into the fray, but how else while he's already damaged goods be able to protect another he loves without risking derezzing for his own user?

Would he even be happy to see Flint? Is he capable of doing so when in such a poor mental headpace??? Would he be able to even allow himself to advance in his affections for his user?

I dunno I dunno I dunno...

[earthtolexie]

happy daft punk break up anniversary everyone

[lilflowerpot]

What nick names do you think Keith and Lotor have for each other? /gen

galra terms of endearment | Lotor's nicknames for Keith | Keith's nicknames for Lotor

Well obviously our favourite purple menace is a terrible terrible man who uses every nickname under the scorching desert sun—because not a single one has ever failed to inflict colour upon his lover's cheeks—but chief among them are: darling, sweet-thing, sweetheart, my love, beloved, l’vaanu, maar tron liirah, and (of course) b’aakhitah ♡

Keith is a little more selective—no less sincere in his affection, just less vocal—but when he does choose to verbalise it (beyond the obvious "I love you") it takes one of three forms: your highness, when he's being playful, teasing Lotor with a title that means everything to the rest of the universe, yet nothing between them; darlin', when he wants something, with a healthy dose of that southern drawl creeping into his voice because he knows exactly how it affects his prince; and rarest of all, tsaiah, used sparingly and only when they're intimate, a whispered prayer on his tongue as his lover leaves him breathless.

[opossumloverr]

Could you do a headcannon with the Rise Boys with a Seal Yokai reader? I wonder how each would react to it?

✪TURTLE BROS X SEAL YOKAI READER✪

Summary:

The Mad Dogs reaction to a Seal Yokai reader!

Warning(s):

None! Fluff

A/N:

FIRST ASK OF THE SEASON EVERYBODY YEEHAWW, I love seals so much they're so cute, if only it wasn't illegal to own them 😓 (Gender-neutral reader!)

《RAPH》

You're so god damn CUTE

He definitely watches those cute animals compilations on YouTube, so when he saw you, he is in AWE

He cannot get his eyes off you

Please please PLEASE let him cuddle with you, PLEASE that's all he wants

I don't know if seals actually do this in real life but, he'll gladly watch you balance things on your nose

OH MY GOSH! And if you can do tricks, popcorn in hand with a beverage to wash it all down, you don't mind putting on a little show for ol'Raphie, right?

"Encore!" Raph squealed as he started rapidly clapping his hands together, "That was amazing [NAME]!"

"Raph all I did was balance a ball on my nose for 10 seconds"

"And those were the best 10 seconds of my life"

He loves anything that you do

Praises you anytime he gets, just look at you! you deserve it!

I live laugh love this giant man

《LEO》

He thinks you're so silly

A silly little goober

He watches those seal stimboards on TikTok unironically 💀

He will 'boop' your nose, you can't avoid it, it's a cannon event

And if you do that little thing that seals do where they retract their whole head into their neck when he does it, you just dug yourself a grave out of embarrassment cause he will NOT stop bringing that up

"Leo, for the last time shut up!" You yelled at the red-eared slider that was currently getting on your last nerve,

"Aw, cmon! you can't deny it, you looked adorable!" He replied, "I swear you'll be the first yokai to ever kill someone with their cuteness"

Teases you and calls you every cringey name in the book

Y'know how baby seals are called 'pups' yeah, he will call you pup on a daily basis (Leo at this point leave, I'm holding the door open for you)

Likes making you mad or flustered just so he can see your reaction ♡

《DONNIE》

You're adorable, hope you know that

Gives you lots of pats with his robot-arms ♡

Will probably research a lot about your species and what they like so he can accommodate them

Seals are actually pretty smart, so uh take that as you will

Likes to lay down on you sometimes while he rants about his day or some project he's working on, not his fault you feel like a cushion

Likes to watch your tail move, not in a weird way its just, fascinating, the way it moves so smoothly is so satisfying

"Donnie? Don-tron? Earth to Bootyyyshaker9000?" You've noticed how he wasn't paying any attention to anything you've been saying for the past 5 minutes, you looked at his face and followed his eyes to where/what he was looking at, oh! It was your tail, you lifted your tail up to wave it in front of his face, that seemed to snap him out of it,

"Oh! my apologies, carry on, [NAME]" He said sheepishly, you just hummed and continued

He also likes the texture of it and will sometimes graze his fingers on your tail

《MIKEY》

HUGS HUGS HUGS!

He just wants to pet you all over

I feel like Mikey is a HUGE animal lover so if you let him pet you, he's over the moon

Plays with your fins sometimes

Likes to squish your face together, he can't help it! you're too cute!

Since seals do eat small marine life, he will cook you a bunch of seafood (seafood boil)

Likes to stare into your eyes, they're so big and shiny, it's kinda hypnotic

Small little giggles leak through your mouth as you stare into Mikey's eyes, not blinking at all, "Mike? You good?" You asked but all you got was a 'hmm' for a response, your eyes subconsciously moved from his,

"Hey hey hey! what are you looking at? bring those cute eyes back on mine!" He pouted, and you laughed,

"Oh, so you like my eyes? how sweet"

"Yep! And I would very much like it if you don't break my gaze, thank you very much!"

I'm so normal about him guys, TRASTYFDTUFYFYUDFIYDIGU

THIS IS WAYY SHORTED THAN HOW I USUALLY WRITE THINGS, SORRY! I'm trying to get my gears going, thank you for the request! Keep them coming guys! but at a reasonable rate pls 🙏🏾

(ALSO LOOK AT HOW CUTEEE AWH)